


Holding Hands

by darwinsdonut



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 23:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darwinsdonut/pseuds/darwinsdonut
Summary: Samuel Ortez is approached by a charming stranger in a coffee shop, and finds he can't forget about him.





	Holding Hands

“Hey, hold this real quick, for science.” 

Samuel looked up from his cooling black coffee to see a ginger with a lot of piercings and deep brown eyes. Sam’s eyebrows twitched. The man had placed his own hand in Sam’s. Sam’s dark eyes pierced the stranger’s. “Do I know you?” 

“Not yet,” he replied. “Would you like to?” 

Sam removed his hand from the stranger’s and placed it back on his cooling coffee. 

“No.” 

The stranger frowned even as Sam turned away, and invited himself to the seat across from Sam. He tried to suppress a grunt of irritation. The stranger leaned toward him. “Isaac Gates, offering whatever service you desire.” 

Sam met the brown eyes, sparkling with life and mischief, and found he couldn’t hate them as much as he wanted to. “Peace and silence. I desire peace and silence.” 

“Your lips tell lies your eyes disagree with.” 

_I don’t like you,_ Sam almost said but didn’t. He settled instead for, “What qualifies you to say that?” 

Isaac tapped his head. “Telepathic. I’m the future.” 

Sam met the stranger head-on. “Why don’t we get straight to the point? Why are you-” 

“No, my friend- why don’t we get _gay_ to the point?” 

Sam bit back a frustrated groan. _“Why are you over here?”_

“I saw you from across the room and had to know you,” Isaac said, eyes glimmering. 

Sam thought back to the hand-holding opener. Charming, if one was into that sort of… Childish nonsense. He eyed his cooling coffee and wanted something else, something warmer, something to excuse the heat in his sienna cheeks at that gaze. He found he inexplicably hated this stranger as a concept but couldn’t hate the actual person. Hmm. He hated that, too. 

“I see your coffee’s gone cold,” Isaac said. “Can I offer you a fresh one?” 

...Fuck. 

Sam huffed out a breath. “If you’ll tell me your motives, perhaps.” 

Isaac leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “You see, I’m a con-man. I approach handsome, wealthy-looking strangers and see how long they’ll hold my hand. And if it leads to conversation, I offer them a drink, and then invite them to dinner.” 

Sam narrowed his eyes, Isaac’s face far too close to his. “What’s the catch?” 

“Well, the catch is actually that I’ve only done this once. You’re the once.” 

“That’s not-” Sam broke off, too exasperated to correct grammar. “Goodbye, Mr. Gates. I… Have somewhere to be.” 

“Oh, how unfortunate! Though I enjoyed the _Mr. Gates_ part.” 

Sam strode out of the coffee shop with rolling eyes and his whole bulky frame brimming with exasperation. What an arrogant, pretentious, charismatic, assumptive, charming asshole. Sam would gladly take him out to dinner- never see him again- he meant he’d gladly never see him again. 

Sure. 

That’s what he meant. 

* * *

Thoughts of the stranger, _Isaac Gates,_ lingered much longer than Sam wanted them to. He tried to do anything to push the odd encounter from mind, but he spent the whole next three nights dreaming of twinkling brown eyes. 

He hated it. Hated it all. Stupid, idiotic, ridiculous. 

_How unfortunate._

_What an ass._

And he hated more than anything that he found himself powering up his computer at three in the morning because he had to find the stranger. That must be the con- that the attractive stranger was made unable to forget him. This was- easily- the stupidest thing he’d ever done- 

_Billionaire Isaac Gates in Court for Embezzling._

The first headline to match the name caught Sam off-guard. 

_Felix Co. CEO Bankrupt After Guilty Sentence_

_Isaac Gates Facing Jail-Time for Newly Uncovered Scams_

Sam gaped. _That_ Isaac Gates? He’d never seen the billionaire’s face- but when he clicked on the article, he didn’t see the young ginger from the coffee shop. He saw the dark brown eyes, robbed of their light, staring out from an aged face and grim expression. The articles were all dated from the past two weeks- the man he’d met must be the son. Ah, yes- there, in the third article- 

_“Son Isaac Gates, Jr. found not guilty, as his involvement with the company was minimal. The Gates family publicist would not offer word on Isaac Jr.’s financial security.”_

Sam sighed. He hated the apparent solution. He hated it, and he hated even more that seeing those eyes robbed of light meant wanting to see them bright again. 

And he _absolutely_ despised the fact he was willing to expend all available resources to meet that goal. 

But he was going to do it. 

* * *

It took two weeks to find him, by which point Sam felt weird about even considering tracking him down. 

He found out Isaac was staying at a cheap apartment in a dumpy part of town, with a few friends known for drug-related misdemeanors and petty theft. Instead of waiting at Isaac’s apartment like… Well, Sam didn’t want to consider what that was like, he went to a nearby coffee shop, somewhat in hopes of seeing him there, somewhat in hopes of viable procrastination. 

He ordered a black coffee and sat near the window, watching rain fall on gray streets outside. He listened to the repetitive rhythms and obscenely aesthetic lyrics of various indie songs. He watched the impoverished hipsters and street-rats that frequented the coffee shop. 

An hour passed and Sam bought another coffee. He felt out of place, in his tailored black suit and clean-shaven jaw, in the appreciably grungy coffee shop. He read a newspaper, but that made him feel even more out of place, so he busied himself reading the news on his phone. Now and then, he would open Instagram, just to… Fit the aesthetic. To not garner so much attention from straying eyes. 

Another hour passed. 

And a third. 

The coffee shop closed at seven, and it was 6:52. 

Sam gave up. 

He rose from the table, exasperated with the indie music, exasperated with the cheap coffee, exasperated with himself, exasperated with the whole scene. And he didn’t understand why he was even here, except that he couldn’t forget those bright eyes and how instantly he latched onto them. He couldn’t forget the charismatic, charming manner and the obnoxious arrogance. He hadn’t a clue why, but he was hooked on Isaac’s entirety, and… He couldn’t hate it. 

He reached the door just as it opened, and stepped back to let the other person through without even looking up. He gasped as he spotted shining brown eyes. Isaac strode in, head turned over his shoulder, laughing with friends and breezing by. Sam watched him go with gaping jaw and a painfully yearning expression. He watched Isaac reach the counter and request a latte for himself and then his friends’ drinks and pay for it all. Afterward, Isaac headed over to a table, still without spotting Sam, who stayed statuesque by the door. 

Sam _almost_ hated what he was about to do- but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it from happening. 

Or even, really, to hate it. 

He crossed the coffee shop to Isaac and said, “Here, hold this. For… Science.” 

He took Isaac’s hand, keeping his face stoic past the flush threatening his cheeks. Isaac turned and gasped, and Sam found himself once more lost to the power of those gleaming eyes. 

A crooked grin curved over Isaac’s face. “Do I know you?” 

“Not yet,” Sam answered. “But you can, if you want to, Mr. Gates.” 

Isaac turned to his friends. “Excuse me, darlings- something a bit more appetizing just appeared.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Isaac!” One of them called, but Isaac had emerged from the table and stood now before Sam. 

Isaac batted long, dark eyelashes at Sam, sparkling eyes in full effect. “Is this an acceptance of my invitation to dinner?” 

“No,” Sam said, and watched, briefly, as surprise rippled over Isaac’s face, only to be concealed once more. Sam, his hand still in Isaac’s, said, “I’m inviting _you_ to dinner. Entirely on me.” 

Something genuine flashed behind Isaac’s grin, and he said, “Well, who am I to refuse? Shall we go now, then?” 

“Are you hungry?” 

“Mmm. Always.” 

Sam sighed, his mind flashing back to those articles, his emotional capacity demanding he take care of Isaac. For now, he’d accept hand-holding. “Then let’s go.” 

They headed for the door, as Isaac said, “So, I suppose I conned you pretty well, didn’t I?” 

Sam opened the door to let Isaac out into the rainy street, and then popped a green umbrella over them both. 

“I suppose you did.”


End file.
